“Nothing yet” Malachi shakes his head at Ashley’s question“But I am sure that they are alright. You know Joren and Vilus can take care of themselves.” Malachi tries to be convincing and hide his own worry. “But why would the cultists set the docks ablaze? Wouldn’t they need those if they were going to invade the city? Let’s check out this alley. I want to find out more.” Malachi moves to the alley the sailors pointed out and checks the area for any additional clues but it is hard to make anything out in the smoke and ash left from the fire.
Heading up the stairs to Jean-Lou's office (as posted earlier), Joren grimaces as he sees Vilus execute the other unconscious cultist assassin but says nothing. In truth, he had been considering slicing off their hands at the wrist to make them "safe" and cauterizing the wounds with a torch.
Joren's voice is philosophical as he sends his echo ahead and responds to his goliath companion.
"Eh... been worse in the past, me. True, I am having no tricks left without a rest, other than my echo. And also being true, the Potion of Healing is our only recourse if one of us goes down. Still, no choice but to continue. Checking on Jean-Lou, responding to our friends' message on the Sending Stone, meeting the surviving councilors who we were seeing on the way here. Then we must be deciding what to do."
Listening for others and keeping vigilant against ambush, Joren and Vilus make their way to the door to Jean-Lou's office. The smell of blood is thicker here, and the interior is dead silent. Joren looks into the chamber and is greeted by a scene of carnage.
Blood is streaked and flecked over the walls and floor, with several puddles pooling around unmoving bodies on the floor, each one holding a knife or crossbow. Another body is resting on the floor between the two shattered halves of what was once Jean-Lou's desk. From the angle his body forms atop the wreckage, his back is broken. Then Joren looks to the wall on the right and sees Jean-Lou sitting still. He is leaning against the display case with his armour, half propped-up by his arm draped over the hilt of the large greatsword he'd kept under its desk. A bead of blood glides down the edge of the blade. On one side of Jean-Lou is a body with no legs, and on the other side, a body with no head. A small army had been sent here, (9 assassins to be more accurate), but only three had escaped with their lives. But Jean-Lou, chest pierced by three poisoned bolts, and with countless nicks and cuts on his arms, legs, and face, is no longer breathing.
Malachi pushes his way through the crowd of people, now arguing and panicking over the flames, to get a better view of the bodies. The first thing he sees are the wounds. Throats slit, each of them. Gaping wounds that look to have been done by the curved daggers that the cultists use. Then Malachi notices the hands. Large, calloused, and weathered, these are the hands of sailors. No one get hands quite like these without years of pulling rope. The forearms, shoulders, and garb likewise point to their profession.
Malachi:
You're missing something, the voice in his tells him. Or perhaps it said Something's missing.
He looks at the bodies again, and wonders why he hadn't made note of their faces. He looks at them one by one, but even as he moves from one face to the next, it's details slip from his mind. He realizes then that though he is staring directly at one of the dead sailors' faces, he wouldn't know how to describe a single feature. It's almost as if they don't even have faces, and his mind is just filling in the blanks with the general concept of a face.
Ashley frowns at Malachi's confidence, but tries to get there herself, "Ok, if you're sure. I know, they are very capable... but... damn it why haven't they responded? If they don't soon, something is wrong and we have to go help them." She says this more as a statement rather then a question.
"These fires, they were definitely deliberate. But aren't the cultists wanting access to this dock? Why burn it and everything around it?" She looks around to see if anyone still hanging around appears to be watching the fires, wanting them to grow, maybe the firestarters themselves. All the while, keeping an eye on the assumed Marigold in case things change with her out there.
Somewhere deep inside his psyche, a young half-dwarven boy, the one who had drilled day and night with a wooden practice sword so that if his father ever returned, he could make him proud... somewhere in Joren's mind, the half-dwarven boy cries disconsolately.
For his fallen countryman. For his homeland. For the only link he has ever had to his father, lying dead in a sea of blood and broken bodies.
On the outside, all that emerges is a low growl, like that of an animal. Joren's face maintains the cool reserve of the seasoned killer he finds he has become. With measured steps, still on the lookout for some cultist trap, he closes the distance to the fallen Jean-Lou, checking methodically (with the limited skill of battlefield experience, not that of a medic) for any vital signs in the fallen goliath councilor, attempting to stabilize Jean-Lou if he can.
IF there appears to be no way to save his father's friend, and no immediate threats, Joren bows his head and retrieves the Sending Stone from his pack. He turns to Vilus and speaks quietly, unemotionally. "I am thinking the other council members need to see this. It may drive home the urgency of what we are needing to say to them. Are you agreeing? If so, can you bring them? I will be standing vigil and replying to our friends."
(Again, ONLY IF he believes he has confirmed Jean-Lou to be dead beyond saving): Joren uses the Sending Stone to reply to Malachi's message, trying through gritted teeth to remain within the twenty-five word limit of the magic, as he understands it.
Jean-Lou dead. Nine masked cultist assassins. Taking six with him. Downing other three, us. One unconscious. Seeking councilors. Good luck. Do what you must.
Vilus grabs two more daggers off of the corpses of fallen cultists, gives Joren a nod and heads off toward the chambers where the council meet.
As Vilus leaves he telepathically speaks to Joren, "take what you need from this place, we leave soon" and he closes the doors on the wreckage of corpses and furniture, closing his companion inside and running off as fast as he can.
Malachi looked at the bodies in the alley, eyes slipping from face to face with a puzzled look and a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. “Their faces are not natural. I can’t explain it, it is like you look right past them. Look for yourself, see what I mean? Could their faces have been taken by the cultists somehow?”
Malachi was still considering this when the sending stone buzzed. He grinned triumphantly to Ashley as he pulled it out and gathered the others close to hear the report. His confident smile dropped when he heard the report. “Jean Lou dead? The cultists were more prepared than we believed. Do what you must, what does that even mean? What more can we do here? Should we return to the council chambers?”He looks around the docks with a slightly panicked look as he discusses the message with the others.
Syrupy blood drips from Jean-Lou's lips onto his chest, and his eyes are glazed over. Joren looks him over, feeling for a pulse, but he knows. He's seen it before. Jean-Lou is gone. His cold hand falls limply from the sword, which clatters to the ground, which draws Joren's attention to the weapon itself. There are markings on the hilt, drawn in blood. "J-O... it looks like Jean-Lou grew too weak to finish his message.
As Vilus reaches the stairs, he looks down to see the councilors and their guards arriving. Seeing the blood and bodies, of the assassins that he and Joren had just fought, the guards quickly level their weapons in Vilus' direction, but one of the councilors, the one Villus has exchanged quick words with, steps forward and holds out a hand to stop the others. "Stand down. This man was just at the arena with us. Jean-Lou... is he...?"
By the fertile earth of the Dalmodh Plains and the icy stone peaks of the Veil Mountains, there is no way that Joren is leaving this abattoir that had once been his countryman's office without his father's sword. Whether the "J-O" written in blood on the hilt signified the beginning of "Joren" or not.
But for now, he does not yet move to grasp the hilt. Stowing his own greatsword, he kneels. Gently, he closes Jean-Lou's eyes, speaking his native tongue. As he remembers doing not so long ago for too many of his fallen comrades after the Battle of the Narrows.
"Heavier than the mightiest boulder lies Duty on our backs. Death floats lighter than silvery fog which shrouds the mountains. The Plains, our mother, call your soul to whence you came. May the solace of her final embrace welcome you home."
Samir stands back from the others, looking past them to the bodies with a growing sense of horror. Whatever the cult had truly planned here, he and his companions had been nowhere near swift enough to forestall it. The Cult had well and truly established themselves here in the city and sprung their plan.
"I.. I... I don't know." His words are hesitating in answering Malachi, his head shaking slowly and sadly. "I don't know what to do now. We are no army, and it seems the cultists have already begun their siege of the city. If only we could somehow get to Marigold, maybe then... I just... don't know."
Ashely's eyes grow wide at the news and for a minute she is speechless. "Do what we must?" She looks towards Marigold and hears Samir.. turning to her half-orc friend she nods. "Let's see what we can do, can we get any of these boats seaworthy to get out there?" She looks down in the water and then pales a bit, "I uh.. I've never been on the water before." Her typical confidence cracking a bit as the notion sweeps over her.
“Then what, Samir? If we get to Marigold, then what?”Malachi turns to look at his friends. “We saw what Andra did to Vilus in the tunnels, and he works for her! Who knows how strong she is?”Malachi looks back over to the ships standing in the harbor, looking for any sign of how many are on the ships and if it is actually the invasion fleet they feared would arrive.
“We know where the entrance to their hideout in the sewers is located. I say we meet Joren and Vilus and return there with an army of guards at our backs. Wipe them out there and search the place for clues of their next steps.” Malachi looks down to and then to the few damaged ships remaining at the docks and sighs “But if you are all dead set on confronting Marigold, I will not let you go alone. I am no sailor myself, but maybe we can convince one of these fine people here to deliver us.”
The explosion rings once more in Ashley's head. In her vision, the crack widens. There is a sensation of urgency and finality. Like her bones are sweating. Like her veins no longer pump blood but anxiety. Something deeply important to her is being threatened, though she does not fully understand what. But Malachi's comments lead her thoughts to the underground hideout. To the tunnel connecting it to Tensmith and Opportunity's Knock. To the rising heat from under the Gloazworm's den. And then deeper still.
"I don't know, Malachi!" Samir snaps for an instant, only to immediately look contrite and embarrased, raising one hand to fiddle iwth his glasses. "I don't know," he continues in a much quieter tone. "I can only think that we are too late for information gathering trips, and trying to get a step ahead." He sighs, deep and defeated. "But you are right. We need Joren and Vilus. None of us are soldiers, or, or whatever Vilus is. I can only think that if we could somehow sink the boat that Marigold is on, then maybe it would set them back, but I don't know if that's logical, or tactical, or merely just my desperation trying to think of anything that could save these people."
Malachi lets out a deep breath. “You are right, Samir. It is too late for information gathering trips.” He gestures around the docks “They have dealt the first strike, the fight is upon us. If we can do something, anything to make them react to us, it may make a difference. Maybe we can at least drive her away from the docks and upset their plans.”
He looks over at the sailors whose ship they just helped to save from the fire. “You there! Help us, help your city, take us out to the ships in the harbor, as close as you can get us.” He waves his companions forward as he climbs back onto the ship. “I hope we can come up with a plan before we get there.”
Ashley screams out in pain and grabs her head. She holds it for a moment with her eyes squeezed shut, riding the wave of pain. Finally, opening them and breathing hard she looks around frantically and sees that Mal is climbing back aboard the ship with the sailors.
"No!" She cries out to him emphatically. "We... we need to go back. I hate saying this, but we have to go back... into the tunnels." she visibly cringes as she says this, the thought almost making her sick as the pain is still washing over her. She grabs ahold of Marion's arm to steady herself.
"Please, let's go back and find Vilus and Joren, we need to. It is urgent." she looks at her friends pleadingly, she can't go at this alone.
Samir cannot help but stare at Ashley as she cries out, one hand raised towards her in an instinctual move to steady his friend. "The tunnels? What happened Ashley? Malachi, can you get in touch with Vilus and Joren and figure out where we can meet?" He looks back to the genasi with concern. "Whatever that was, I trust Ashley's instincts."
Joren waits on one knee before Jean-Lou's corpse, head bowed as the moment stretches long.
He waits not just due to the flood of unexpected sorrow he feels, but somehow, he wants to only grasp his father's greatsword with others to witness it, and the grisly evidence of how Jean-Lou had defended himself with it to the end. So that he is openly making his claim to the weapon and its powers.
Nevertheless, he is cognizant of Vilus' warning to hurry. Time is short and things are moving too quickly. If the goliath does not reenter the office with the councilors in tow within the minute, Joren meditates on his training for a moment, then reverently extends his hand towards the hilt.
Malachi looks back in surprise at Ashley’s shout “What? But I thought..nevermind, you are right, we will go.” He climbs back out of the boat with a visible look of relief that the were not confronting Marigold that was replaced with one of concern as he approached Ashley to make sure she was okay.
He shakes his head at Samir’s question “No, the stones only work once per day, but we know they are at the councilor’s chambers. If we hurry, I am sure we will catch up with them there.” Malachi pulls on the others and leads them back to the chambers, keeping an eye open for threats as they travel.
Ashley, still wincing in pain, looks at her friends and tries to respond. "I can't exactly explain it, but I feel it in my bones, something extremely important but I don't know what. Something deep, below the gloazworm dens..." Her eyes look at her friends desperately wanting them to understand, and at the same time wanting them to tell her what she's missing because the mystery is almost too much to handle. "I don't know!!" she finally elicits, failing to comprehend why she feels this way.
She is glad they start moving and she rushes along with them, hoping her friends are alright and maybe Vilus can help shed a light on what is going on in her mind.
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“Nothing yet” Malachi shakes his head at Ashley’s question “But I am sure that they are alright. You know Joren and Vilus can take care of themselves.” Malachi tries to be convincing and hide his own worry. “But why would the cultists set the docks ablaze? Wouldn’t they need those if they were going to invade the city? Let’s check out this alley. I want to find out more.” Malachi moves to the alley the sailors pointed out and checks the area for any additional clues but it is hard to make anything out in the smoke and ash left from the fire.
Heading up the stairs to Jean-Lou's office (as posted earlier), Joren grimaces as he sees Vilus execute the other unconscious cultist assassin but says nothing. In truth, he had been considering slicing off their hands at the wrist to make them "safe" and cauterizing the wounds with a torch.
Joren's voice is philosophical as he sends his echo ahead and responds to his goliath companion.
"Eh... been worse in the past, me. True, I am having no tricks left without a rest, other than my echo. And also being true, the Potion of Healing is our only recourse if one of us goes down. Still, no choice but to continue. Checking on Jean-Lou, responding to our friends' message on the Sending Stone, meeting the surviving councilors who we were seeing on the way here. Then we must be deciding what to do."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Listening for others and keeping vigilant against ambush, Joren and Vilus make their way to the door to Jean-Lou's office. The smell of blood is thicker here, and the interior is dead silent. Joren looks into the chamber and is greeted by a scene of carnage.
Blood is streaked and flecked over the walls and floor, with several puddles pooling around unmoving bodies on the floor, each one holding a knife or crossbow. Another body is resting on the floor between the two shattered halves of what was once Jean-Lou's desk. From the angle his body forms atop the wreckage, his back is broken. Then Joren looks to the wall on the right and sees Jean-Lou sitting still. He is leaning against the display case with his armour, half propped-up by his arm draped over the hilt of the large greatsword he'd kept under its desk. A bead of blood glides down the edge of the blade. On one side of Jean-Lou is a body with no legs, and on the other side, a body with no head. A small army had been sent here, (9 assassins to be more accurate), but only three had escaped with their lives. But Jean-Lou, chest pierced by three poisoned bolts, and with countless nicks and cuts on his arms, legs, and face, is no longer breathing.
Malachi pushes his way through the crowd of people, now arguing and panicking over the flames, to get a better view of the bodies. The first thing he sees are the wounds. Throats slit, each of them. Gaping wounds that look to have been done by the curved daggers that the cultists use. Then Malachi notices the hands. Large, calloused, and weathered, these are the hands of sailors. No one get hands quite like these without years of pulling rope. The forearms, shoulders, and garb likewise point to their profession.
Malachi:
You're missing something, the voice in his tells him. Or perhaps it said Something's missing.
He looks at the bodies again, and wonders why he hadn't made note of their faces. He looks at them one by one, but even as he moves from one face to the next, it's details slip from his mind. He realizes then that though he is staring directly at one of the dead sailors' faces, he wouldn't know how to describe a single feature. It's almost as if they don't even have faces, and his mind is just filling in the blanks with the general concept of a face.
Ashley frowns at Malachi's confidence, but tries to get there herself, "Ok, if you're sure. I know, they are very capable... but... damn it why haven't they responded? If they don't soon, something is wrong and we have to go help them." She says this more as a statement rather then a question.
"These fires, they were definitely deliberate. But aren't the cultists wanting access to this dock? Why burn it and everything around it?" She looks around to see if anyone still hanging around appears to be watching the fires, wanting them to grow, maybe the firestarters themselves. All the while, keeping an eye on the assumed Marigold in case things change with her out there.
Somewhere deep inside his psyche, a young half-dwarven boy, the one who had drilled day and night with a wooden practice sword so that if his father ever returned, he could make him proud... somewhere in Joren's mind, the half-dwarven boy cries disconsolately.
For his fallen countryman. For his homeland. For the only link he has ever had to his father, lying dead in a sea of blood and broken bodies.
On the outside, all that emerges is a low growl, like that of an animal. Joren's face maintains the cool reserve of the seasoned killer he finds he has become. With measured steps, still on the lookout for some cultist trap, he closes the distance to the fallen Jean-Lou, checking methodically (with the limited skill of battlefield experience, not that of a medic) for any vital signs in the fallen goliath councilor, attempting to stabilize Jean-Lou if he can.
Joren Medicine: 13
IF there appears to be no way to save his father's friend, and no immediate threats, Joren bows his head and retrieves the Sending Stone from his pack. He turns to Vilus and speaks quietly, unemotionally. "I am thinking the other council members need to see this. It may drive home the urgency of what we are needing to say to them. Are you agreeing? If so, can you bring them? I will be standing vigil and replying to our friends."
(Again, ONLY IF he believes he has confirmed Jean-Lou to be dead beyond saving): Joren uses the Sending Stone to reply to Malachi's message, trying through gritted teeth to remain within the twenty-five word limit of the magic, as he understands it.
Jean-Lou dead. Nine masked cultist assassins. Taking six with him. Downing other three, us. One unconscious.
Seeking councilors. Good luck. Do what you must.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Vilus grabs two more daggers off of the corpses of fallen cultists, gives Joren a nod and heads off toward the chambers where the council meet.
As Vilus leaves he telepathically speaks to Joren, "take what you need from this place, we leave soon" and he closes the doors on the wreckage of corpses and furniture, closing his companion inside and running off as fast as he can.
Malachi looked at the bodies in the alley, eyes slipping from face to face with a puzzled look and a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. “Their faces are not natural. I can’t explain it, it is like you look right past them. Look for yourself, see what I mean? Could their faces have been taken by the cultists somehow?”
Malachi was still considering this when the sending stone buzzed. He grinned triumphantly to Ashley as he pulled it out and gathered the others close to hear the report. His confident smile dropped when he heard the report. “Jean Lou dead? The cultists were more prepared than we believed. Do what you must, what does that even mean? What more can we do here? Should we return to the council chambers?” He looks around the docks with a slightly panicked look as he discusses the message with the others.
Syrupy blood drips from Jean-Lou's lips onto his chest, and his eyes are glazed over. Joren looks him over, feeling for a pulse, but he knows. He's seen it before. Jean-Lou is gone. His cold hand falls limply from the sword, which clatters to the ground, which draws Joren's attention to the weapon itself. There are markings on the hilt, drawn in blood. "J-O... it looks like Jean-Lou grew too weak to finish his message.
As Vilus reaches the stairs, he looks down to see the councilors and their guards arriving. Seeing the blood and bodies, of the assassins that he and Joren had just fought, the guards quickly level their weapons in Vilus' direction, but one of the councilors, the one Villus has exchanged quick words with, steps forward and holds out a hand to stop the others. "Stand down. This man was just at the arena with us. Jean-Lou... is he...?"
By the fertile earth of the Dalmodh Plains and the icy stone peaks of the Veil Mountains, there is no way that Joren is leaving this abattoir that had once been his countryman's office without his father's sword. Whether the "J-O" written in blood on the hilt signified the beginning of "Joren" or not.
But for now, he does not yet move to grasp the hilt. Stowing his own greatsword, he kneels. Gently, he closes Jean-Lou's eyes, speaking his native tongue. As he remembers doing not so long ago for too many of his fallen comrades after the Battle of the Narrows.
"Heavier than the mightiest boulder lies Duty on our backs.
Death floats lighter than silvery fog which shrouds the mountains.
The Plains, our mother, call your soul to whence you came.
May the solace of her final embrace welcome you home."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Samir stands back from the others, looking past them to the bodies with a growing sense of horror. Whatever the cult had truly planned here, he and his companions had been nowhere near swift enough to forestall it. The Cult had well and truly established themselves here in the city and sprung their plan.
"I.. I... I don't know." His words are hesitating in answering Malachi, his head shaking slowly and sadly. "I don't know what to do now. We are no army, and it seems the cultists have already begun their siege of the city. If only we could somehow get to Marigold, maybe then... I just... don't know."
Ashely's eyes grow wide at the news and for a minute she is speechless. "Do what we must?" She looks towards Marigold and hears Samir.. turning to her half-orc friend she nods. "Let's see what we can do, can we get any of these boats seaworthy to get out there?" She looks down in the water and then pales a bit, "I uh.. I've never been on the water before." Her typical confidence cracking a bit as the notion sweeps over her.
“Then what, Samir? If we get to Marigold, then what?” Malachi turns to look at his friends. “We saw what Andra did to Vilus in the tunnels, and he works for her! Who knows how strong she is?” Malachi looks back over to the ships standing in the harbor, looking for any sign of how many are on the ships and if it is actually the invasion fleet they feared would arrive.
“We know where the entrance to their hideout in the sewers is located. I say we meet Joren and Vilus and return there with an army of guards at our backs. Wipe them out there and search the place for clues of their next steps.” Malachi looks down to and then to the few damaged ships remaining at the docks and sighs “But if you are all dead set on confronting Marigold, I will not let you go alone. I am no sailor myself, but maybe we can convince one of these fine people here to deliver us.”
Ashley:
The explosion rings once more in Ashley's head. In her vision, the crack widens. There is a sensation of urgency and finality. Like her bones are sweating. Like her veins no longer pump blood but anxiety. Something deeply important to her is being threatened, though she does not fully understand what. But Malachi's comments lead her thoughts to the underground hideout. To the tunnel connecting it to Tensmith and Opportunity's Knock. To the rising heat from under the Gloazworm's den. And then deeper still.
"I don't know, Malachi!" Samir snaps for an instant, only to immediately look contrite and embarrased, raising one hand to fiddle iwth his glasses. "I don't know," he continues in a much quieter tone. "I can only think that we are too late for information gathering trips, and trying to get a step ahead." He sighs, deep and defeated. "But you are right. We need Joren and Vilus. None of us are soldiers, or, or whatever Vilus is. I can only think that if we could somehow sink the boat that Marigold is on, then maybe it would set them back, but I don't know if that's logical, or tactical, or merely just my desperation trying to think of anything that could save these people."
Malachi lets out a deep breath. “You are right, Samir. It is too late for information gathering trips.” He gestures around the docks “They have dealt the first strike, the fight is upon us. If we can do something, anything to make them react to us, it may make a difference. Maybe we can at least drive her away from the docks and upset their plans.”
He looks over at the sailors whose ship they just helped to save from the fire. “You there! Help us, help your city, take us out to the ships in the harbor, as close as you can get us.” He waves his companions forward as he climbs back onto the ship. “I hope we can come up with a plan before we get there.”
Ashley screams out in pain and grabs her head. She holds it for a moment with her eyes squeezed shut, riding the wave of pain. Finally, opening them and breathing hard she looks around frantically and sees that Mal is climbing back aboard the ship with the sailors.
"No!" She cries out to him emphatically. "We... we need to go back. I hate saying this, but we have to go back... into the tunnels." she visibly cringes as she says this, the thought almost making her sick as the pain is still washing over her. She grabs ahold of Marion's arm to steady herself.
"Please, let's go back and find Vilus and Joren, we need to. It is urgent." she looks at her friends pleadingly, she can't go at this alone.
Samir cannot help but stare at Ashley as she cries out, one hand raised towards her in an instinctual move to steady his friend. "The tunnels? What happened Ashley? Malachi, can you get in touch with Vilus and Joren and figure out where we can meet?" He looks back to the genasi with concern. "Whatever that was, I trust Ashley's instincts."
Joren waits on one knee before Jean-Lou's corpse, head bowed as the moment stretches long.
He waits not just due to the flood of unexpected sorrow he feels, but somehow, he wants to only grasp his father's greatsword with others to witness it, and the grisly evidence of how Jean-Lou had defended himself with it to the end. So that he is openly making his claim to the weapon and its powers.
Nevertheless, he is cognizant of Vilus' warning to hurry. Time is short and things are moving too quickly. If the goliath does not reenter the office with the councilors in tow within the minute, Joren meditates on his training for a moment, then reverently extends his hand towards the hilt.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Malachi looks back in surprise at Ashley’s shout “What? But I thought..nevermind, you are right, we will go.” He climbs back out of the boat with a visible look of relief that the were not confronting Marigold that was replaced with one of concern as he approached Ashley to make sure she was okay.
He shakes his head at Samir’s question “No, the stones only work once per day, but we know they are at the councilor’s chambers. If we hurry, I am sure we will catch up with them there.” Malachi pulls on the others and leads them back to the chambers, keeping an eye open for threats as they travel.
Ashley, still wincing in pain, looks at her friends and tries to respond. "I can't exactly explain it, but I feel it in my bones, something extremely important but I don't know what. Something deep, below the gloazworm dens..." Her eyes look at her friends desperately wanting them to understand, and at the same time wanting them to tell her what she's missing because the mystery is almost too much to handle. "I don't know!!" she finally elicits, failing to comprehend why she feels this way.
She is glad they start moving and she rushes along with them, hoping her friends are alright and maybe Vilus can help shed a light on what is going on in her mind.